


Sing me to sleep, I'll see you in my dreams

by galexiesx



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-01 19:42:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11493396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galexiesx/pseuds/galexiesx
Summary: Peter's heart feels heavy and he doesn't know how to carry it. Tony Stark may or may not be the reason behind it.





	Sing me to sleep, I'll see you in my dreams

**Author's Note:**

> The tittle is shamelessly stolen from All Time Low lyrics, even though the meaning is different.  
> Also looking back at it.. It's such a teenage angst what the fuck.  
> This takes place after Spiderman: Homecoming

Peter Parker has always looked up to Mr. Stark. For as long as he can remember at least.

He was admiring him when he was seven and Mr. Stark announced to the world that he truly is Iron Man.

He was admiring him when he was eight and Mr. Stark saved him on the Stark Expo.

He was admiring him when he was eleven and Mr. Stark almost sacrificed his life in try to save the entire Manhattan by taking the missile through the worm hole to the Chitauri nest.

He was admiring him when he was twelve and Mr. Stark's house in Malibu was under an attack and he reportedly deceased.

He was admiring him when he was thirteen and managed to put himself together and go out there with his home-made costume.

He was admiring him when he was fourteen and Mr. Stark came to him and put so much trust in him asking him to come to Europe and fight half of the fucking Avengers by his side.

Just as he is admiring him now when he is sixteen and there are his very own fingers wrapped around his dick and he is whining like a pup in heat while pretending this is just a normal morning shower. He loathes himself for letting images of Tony flicker behind his close eyes, imagining those were Tony's hands, those were Tony's fingers. But he is too close to take that away from himself now.

Two more pumps and one flick of his thumb over the sensitive head of his manhood is what it takes for him to come. To come and to feel completely pathetic afterwards.

 

He came to the terms with the fact that he may like Tony Stark a bit more than what he originally used to tell himself. The familiar pain takes over way too often lately. And he doesn't love himself enough to man up and move on. Tony Stark is an adult man. An adult man who lives with a woman, his soon-to-be-a-fiancée, as Peter hates to admit. Don't get him wrong. Pepper Potts is an amazing woman who has always treated him nice and fair. Always has offered a friendly smile and a pleasant handshake. He loves Pepper (as much as he is allowed, considering his feelings). He's so pathetic, isn't he?! 

 

He decides to turn off the shower, wrap a towel around his waist and get out of the bathroom.

 

Peter doesn't really remember what was it like before he used to live with May. Sure, there are pictures of his parents, he even remembers them well. Their faces, their voices, how did it feel when they kissed his forehead before sleep. But their faces nor their voices nor the feeling when they kissed his forehead before sleep doesn't really define the way they used to live, he believes. And missing them makes him feel like the tiny boy he was when he lost them and he doesn't like that feeling. 

 

He first realized he may be crushing on Tony Stark when the said man gave him back the suit. He looked so proud as if he was glowing with affection some would take as parental. Peter doesn't find it parental. Peter feels like it's the best kind of approval he has ever gotten. He loves this feeling. He wants to feel it more often. As often as possible. He wants to make Tony proud all the time.

The idea doesn't really occure to him at first. Why should it? Tony Stark is something like his boss. Maybe collegue. Someone he should strictly only work with. Why does he think about him all the fucking time then?

It takes him a few weeks to get the idea and about a few months to accept it. He doesn't know how to deal with it, something inside tells him to stay as far away as possible. It's sick. Tony Stark is so much older. He does not have to say the number out loud, for his mind is faster and the age difference is scary. It makes his stomach feel weird.

 

They probably crossed the line somewhere between "Call me Tony, kid." and staring at each other for too long. Or maybe that one time when Tony's company made him the happiest he has been in months. Yeah, it got out of their hands without them really noticing. 

 

It's about the middle of July. He is on his summer break. He spends his nights out helping people until he comes back home at dawn and sleeps through the day. It's a cycle that works amazing for him and he doesn't intend on changing it. Life has apparently different plans. He is in the middle of rubbing his hair dry with a towel when May knocks on his door with a quiet. "Honey? Can you come here for a bit?"

He puts on a pair of sweatpants and doesn't really even consider bothering with a shirt because it's so fucking hot he would love to crawl out of his skin (sure let's pretend the weather is the only reason why he hates to be in his own skin).

 

He expects aunt May to maybe ask him to help her with grocery shopping or ask him what does he want for dinner or maybe to do the dishes. What he gets though (and trust him 100% he does not expect it) is Tony Fucking Stark sitting on his sofa with a glass of whiskey in his hand. Did aunt May just let him drink here?! He's wearing a bit too tight shirt and Peter has to look away because even though his shower adventure has just ended he would love to avoid popping a boner in front of the two people he would least likely want to pop a boner in front of.

 

"Hello, young man! Glad to see you in a good shape. May over here suggested that you may still be asleep," Tony lets out with a wink pointed at Peter's aunt and his stomach twists in disgust because just ew.

He rubs the back of his head nervously, avoiding Tony's eyes for as long as possible. "Yeah, I get a bit tired lately."

"Maybe we could discuss that? May, if you don't mind.." Tony gets up with a surprisingly polite smile and tilts his head towards Peter's bedroom. He gets the hint immediately and he really doesn't want to invite him in because his heart might just explode from all the ache once he's gone and all that's left is an imprint of Tony's palm against his back as he guides him towards the door. They get in and Tony closes it. Peter swallows the gulp in his throat and takes a deep breath. 

"So? You wanted to talk?"

"You're awfully quiet lately. You used to be so much more talkative," Tony shakes his head as he sits on Peter's bed leaning against the headboard. Go fucking figure, Tony. 

"I got an amazing idea," he continues. "Since it's your summerbreak and you did so well with the last... cases you dealt with.. You should come with me to Los Angeles. I bought a new house. F.R.I.D.A.Y. is doing amazing wi-"

"Why do you want me to come?" he snaps. He doesn't even know what's wrong he just feels such a flow of anger coming at him.

"Oh well first of all it's rude to interrupt others," he gives him a significant look, "and second of all what?"

"What do you need from me that you want me to come with you? You always do things just to get something from it." he hisses, suprised by himself yet too far gone. 

Tony laughs dryly, not a single drop of amusement in the sound. "Oh wow where does that come from? Come to think about it maybe i liked you more when you were quiet." Peter finally looks him in the eyes and he feels like a fool. 

He takes a deep breath. Tony hasn't done anything wrong. This is ridiculous. He indeed is a fool standing in the middle of his room in his dark grey sweatpants looking down at the man that is unwittingly ruining his life. 

"Does May agree with me coming?" he asks quietly.

"Oh she does. Who could possibly blame her? I mean you know how moody teenagers these days are," he retorts and Peter just rolls his eyes.  
They leave New York together that night. 

 

One of Peter's classmates, Michelle, once asked Peter whether he admires Tony Stark. 

"Does it matter?" Peter replied.

"You work for him. And I'm sincerely wondering how can such a huge amount of people adore such a self-centered and pretentious person," she says with a slight smile, matter-of-fact kind of way. As if she was talking about weather. 

She wasn't wrong. Oh boy she was far away from wrong. She was more right than any magazine that'd decided to talk about Tony's perfect charm. Too bad that Peter finds each and every of his flaws charming. 

"You ain't wrong," he gave her that. 

"I guess the world can revolve around some people if they have enough money to make that way, right?"

That's all it takes for her to come back to sketching. 

 

Peter believes that there is a reason for everything that is happening to him. For this fucking ugly crush he is having on Tony maybe too. To learn that he can't always get what he wants. Life would be too easy if it was that way, right? He tries to make some sense in the cycle he involuntary involved himself in. He tells himself to calm down, take a deep breath everytime Tony is around making it harder for him to breathe. It helps. For a few days. Then he makes the mistake of asking himself how many times does he have to do it for it to stop working in half-asleep state. It stops working after that and he hates himself a tiny drop more. 

The time he stays at Tony's place that July feels like a different life. Tony treats him well. He lets him do less than one would expect though. The training he makes him go through is hard too. The effort and caring from him is a little bit too much for someone like- oh well Tony Stark. Nobody saw that coming. Neither did Peter. He patiently waits for a twist. The reason why he was brought to Los Angeles in the first place. It doesn't come. And he doesn't hate himself enough to let himself believe Tony decided to tag him along to spend time together. Because he may be sixteen but he isn't stupid. Sometimes he wishes otherwise. For it would be a tad bit easier. 

On third day of his trip to LA there is a visit in Tony's house. Someone so expected it hurts yet Peter's heart sinks when he spots the slim figure.

"Peter! Wow did you get taller?! You look wonderful in this colour!" Pepper chirps and pats his shoulder before slightly pecking his cheek. "I hope you're having a wonderful time! And that Tony is taking a good care of you. I'd hate to hear he's neglecting you," she laughs and Peter wants to die oh so bad. 

"Haha, yeah. I'm doing great. Thanks for having me. I'm sure it was your idea!" he manages to let out as positively as possible. 

"You would be surprised actually. Tony has been working rather hard to get the training centre ready for you! Oh well maybe you could say he was just commanding F.R.I.D.A.Y. more, haha. He seriously loves to see you grow!" 

Peter wants to tell her to shut up. She is too nice for her own good and he can't believe he is falling head over heels for her boyfriend. She shouldn't be telling him how much Tony cares about him for his heart feels too much hope, that is probably oh so misplaced and his mind is tempted to do something really wrong. 

"I didn't really realize that he- yeah wow thanks," he murmurs. The urge to crawl away larger than usual. 

 

Pepper stays for the dinner. He is sure she is staying for the night as well. And for many more nights probably, too. It's okay. He's okay. He keeps telling himself for so long he can't tell whether it's true or he's just gotten numb. 

Tony has to be feeling extremely generous that evening for he takes him (and Pepper, of course) to the new Avengers Facility. Peter doesn't protest. In fact, he is excited. But then he realizes that what he feels is more of pride than excitement. Pride because Tony has to be so proud of him. So proud that he wants to show others how well he is doing. Peter hates himself for thinking so. He is no longer that happy about their trip out. 

The whole thing is slightly unexpected and he remains suspicious of Tony. He is quiet though. 

Thirty minutes into the gathering and Peter feels hopeless. Then he finds the solution and everything seems so much easier. 

The waiter puts half-full glass of red wine in front of him just like age was no big deal and Peter doesn't protest. Maybe he really does seem older. He sips on his wine and he genuinely hates the taste but it does the magic and that's what matters to him. 

 

An hour later and his whole world just spins. He learns about few of other visitors (more like residents, really). One of them being no one else but The Vision. He seems so eager to make Peter feel good about the whole Avengers deal. Only that the dear Vision doesn't know shit about what truly bothers Peter. Bothers as in eats him fucking alive.

Maybe drinking those four glasses of wine wasn't his best fucking idea. Or were there five?! It definitely wasn't a good idea. He is sure once he decides to look Tony's way because he sees him leaning over to Pepper to kiss her and Peter fights the urge to throw up. He almost gags a little. Little do the others know the only thing he consumed was the wine and about the tiniest carrot he has ever seen. 

"Do you know what I don't get? Why does Tony need a house in Los Angeles when he can just like- simply stay here," he shakes his head, not really noticing how many looks his way he gets in return. 

He excuses himself to go to bed for the training is too tiring. Oh yeah he wishes to fall asleep and never wake up. For when he is unconsious he is the happiest. 

 

The rest of the night is a blurr. He recalls standing up and even making it out of the dining room. He may be stuck in the living room and he may be falling onto the floor, he can't tell. Maybe he's throwing up and maybe there is Tony's arm around his waist to pull him up. Who knows? Peter certainly doesn't. In fact, from his point of view it's more of a distant dream than alarming reality. And if Peter can do anything he wants in his dream, it's time to do it, isn't it? So he does it. He grabs a fistful of Tony's shirt on the front when the older tries to help him to bed. And Peter can't help but let out a chuckle. "You know what is the worst, hardest thing in my life? How much I wish i could hate you," he whispers but he is no longer laughing. The sound turns into a deep sigh, "and it's just not possible," he lets go of the fabric and pulls the covers up to his chin. 

 

"You should drink water," someone says, and maybe they don't. Peter has no fucking clue.

 

The first thing he registers when he opens his eyes is too much light. He looks around but his head is aching, throbbing as if someone smacked him with a hammer. The next thing that gets him scrunch his nose in disgust is a smell of puke. The whole room is filled with that scent and he hates it oh so bad. Then he pulls the hem of his shirt to his nose and yes, it is confirmed that even his clothes smells that way. He tries not to throw up again. Oh well, clothes is a big word for he is only wearing a t-shirt and... He is no longer wearing the jeans he was wearing last night. Instead he's got on a pair of grey sweatpants and what the fuck? How even?

He does try and he does manage to get up and sit straight. He can't really tell what happened. The realization comes only when he thinks of what he remembers the last. His cheeks burn with shame because- god damn please no. After that he drinks about a bottle of water and takes a shower. A very long one because the longer he stays in the shower the later he will have to face Tony and others. 

Too bad that Tony is waiting for him in his room by the time he leaves the bathroom. He's sitting on the edge of his bed like nothing has happened. There is only a towel wrapped around Peter's hips because fucking excuse him this is his room. 

"I brought you coffee. And a bagel, but I doubt you would actually want that," he smiles his way, setting one of the two cups and the bagel on the nightstand.  
"Uhm- thanks," he murmurs but he doesn't dare to meet Tony's eyes. They're quiet after that. It's horrible. Peter feels like shit. "Listen, about last night.. I- uhm.. I have it kinda blurry so- if you could... help me in a way- that would be.. uhm sort of delightful."

Tony laughs. He literally laughs into Peter's face. Just like that. He wants to punch him. 

"Yeah thank you very much, asshole," he shakes his head as he sits next to Tony on the bed. He finally looks his way. Tony is watching him. 

"I guess wine isn't your thing, is it?" another chuckle. Fuck you, Tony. "You were adorable. You tripped in the living room, yes. You did vomit on my favourite carpet, yes... Vision and I helped you get in bed but you were just as talkative as I remember you. Adorbs, really," Tony raises one of his brows as he sips on his coffee and Peter wants to die on spot because- god damn please no. And what the fuck does 'talkative' even mean. He didn't talk about things he forbade himself talk about, did he?

"How generous of you not to kick me out for throwing up on your favourite carpet," he offers poison sweet voice with an even faker smile. He doesn't even understand why he is so harsh, it just feels right. Maybe he got so used to being so hard on himself that he doesn't know how to treat others differently. 

"You're like fifteen, I'm pretty sure you left other fluids in my houses as well," Tony retors in a similiar voice and Peter wants to be buried at least hundred feet under the black ground becuase he has been fighting the urge to touch himself in the shower ever since they arrived to LA. 

He pretends there is not a blush creeping down his cheeks and neck as he pushes Tony away.

"I fucking hate you," he whispers but he is certain Tony hears him. 

Suddenly there is Tony's palm wrapped around the back of his neck and Peter is paralyzed. He can't look up because it already hurts oh so much and he isn't sure if he would handle the pain getting oh so much worse. 

Tony caresses his cheek so, so gently Peter isn't sure it's not a fantasy. His tired mind playing tricks on him. Tony leans closer, so close Peter's heart threatens to explode. He presses their foreheads together. There is so little space, Peter wants to scream because this is something he has been dreaming about for months. He knows it's not right though.

"I- I am sixteen," he lets out softly. 

"What?" Tony snaps but doesn't flinch an inch away. 

"You said i was fifteen. I'm not." 

"You try to be an adult an awful lot," he smirks, closing his eyes. But he doesn't move. And Peter is so torn between wanting him closer and wanting him away because this feels like he is asking to get hurt and he has had fucking enough. 

It is almost peaceful except for that part where Peter's heart is breaking with the weight of the familiar pain. It hurts to move but it hurts to stay. He closes his eyes for a minute. And when he opens them he sees Tony staring at him so intensively he almost shits himself on the spot. So there they are, staring into each other's souls, so goddamn close, yet so fucking far. 

 

They go back to LA in the upcoming days, eventually. 

 

Peter doesn't find it in himself to stay in Los Angeles, though. It's too tiring to be with Tony that much and even though he tries and puts up with him for about a month, it is simply too much in the end. He is disappointed in himself because Tony could offer him the opportunities to train and to become better and stronger. Then he remembers that he got where he is now on his own even when Tony took everything away from him. He can do good on his own. He likes to think so atleast.  
That's how he reasons his sudden leave to himself.

"I really thought that if I let you leave with Tony... Listen Peter, I feel like something has been bothering you big time lately and I hate to see you like that. The worst part is that I can't even help you if you don't let me in," she pats his cheek lovingly and he has to do his best not to flinch away.  
"I'm okay..." He lies so poorly that not even he himself is convinced. 

"I don't think so." 

You could say being 'okay' is relative, couldn't you? 

"Uhm... I think I really need a shower."

That's how he reasons his sudden leave to aunt May. 

When it comes to Tony and Pepper, he doesn't really explain why he has to come back to New York so urgently. But Tony knows the truth. He knows it better than anyone else because it's Tony who takes the initiative into his hands the night before Peter's sudden departure. Tony is the one who snaps from his self control, who gives in and presses their lips together, knocking even the remaining breath out of the younger. And it feels just like Peter always imagined it would. In fact Tony's lips are even softer. He isn't that gentle though. Peter doesn't mind. If this is what Tony offers who is he to say no? He would never say no. He's so whipped he would take anything Tony offers. And boy, he does. It's sudden, it's eager and tensed, but it's in a way beautiful and Peter is shocked at first, but then he gets back to himself and he suddenly can't keep his hands to himself. He's leaning against the kitchen counter and Tony presses so beautifully against him. He runs his fingers through Tony's hair and yeah it's just as silky as it always looked. He tugs on it fairly and it feels right even though this whole act is so, so wrong. Peter wants this so bad, it aches to think. He experimentaly runs his tongue across the seam of Tony's mouth, just to see and that's when they part for the tiniest, shortest second, eyes locking and there are goosebumps all over Peter's body when he sees the animalistic look on Tony's face. He craves his touch again. They reunit a brief moment after, hands all over each other as if the eye contact was a confirmation. Tony presses hard against him and boy if he doesn't love it. A sob slips past his lips and there's shame burning on his cheeks, he can feel it oh so clearly even though everything is so ...tangled. He can feel Tony's hands settle on his hips, he loves the firmness, the roughness. It's when he shamelessly licks into Tony's mouth that the realization hits him. The complete picture. He doesn't want to let it to the surface but the anxiety is pouring out in the pit of his stomach and suddenly nothing feels right. He moves his hands to Tony's chest, he hesitates because this is something so- the pure idea of this could get him throbbing in his pants at anytime, really.

He knows what he needs to do and he's all kinds of not ready for it. But doing the right thing is the only thing left that makes sense to him so he does it. He pushes Tony away with all the force he finds in himself. Tony backs away, stumbles a little. The look on his face is the strangest Peter has ever seen. His gaze is intense, orbs darker than usual, he seems, for the first time in Peter's life, almost paralyzed. He opens his mouth to talk but nothing comes out. Peter is happy for that. He isn't sure how much he would be able to put up with right now. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, Tony's eyes never leaving his body. His breathing is shaky, he is surprised he's capable of standing straight. He finally looks down and leaves to his room, the sound of the padding of sock covered feet against the floor echoing through the room. He wants to cry himself to sleep in hope the ugly feeling making his chest feel heavy would go away but he can't get one tear out of himself that night. 

He feels like a dead man. Because while doing the right thing should be amazing and the feeling should be in a way rewarding, pushing Tony away is devastating, it takes all the left strength Peter has and it breaks him. He wants to feel proud of himself but all he can feel is disappointment. It crushes him.

He leaves in the morning without a word. Nobody stops him. 

 

Peter has always been one of those who could eat all the time and never gain weight. He didn't really care. Now more than ever. His appetite died somewhere between asking infinite number of 'what if's and tries to move on and it's been going on for so long he loses track somewhere midway.

It got to the point where his hipbones are jutting out way too much and while he could somehow get away with that in winter with a help of thick sweaters and jumpers, it is quite a completely different deal now in summer. He hates it. And he hates the fact that he is 175 cms of pale skin stretched tightly over his bones. Not for himself. But while self hatred is getting the best out of him he still wishes to do good. To help people. He believes that's the only thing he likes more than a certain cocky mother fucking billionaire.  
Only that helping people doesn't bring him as much pain as a certain cocky mother fucking billionaire does.

 

He goes out more often than ever. He tries to keep himself busy, his mind occupied. It works and it also doesn't.  
Tony's face is slowly turning into a memory that accompanies him everywhere and it hurts almost the same, he isn't sure.  
May notices his weight loss. She notices he barely eats. And she treats him like a fucking baby again. That may be another reason why he spends so much time outside. But hey, everything feels less pathetic one morning on his way home. He is wearing the suit, of course and he is walking because his shoulder hurts and he isn't stupid enough to swing down. A small boy, one that looks barely eight, is looking out of a window, looking so so sleepy, eyes droppy. He waves Peter's way with such a huge, genuine smile it could warm up icebergs. That's when he notices the boy's wearing a t-shirt with a picture of Spiderman on the front. It looks homemade and it makes Peter feel less miserable.

 

Peter tells himself that maybe they're just not meant to be. That happens. Some people are, some aren't. Some people have to be untouchable in order to teach you something. It aches to think they never even got a chance in the first place. But it also aches to think otherwise. Not like he hasn't lost hope long time ago. 

 

As much as Peter hates it, there are few thoughts never leaving his exhausted mind. Thoughts that keep him up all night numerious times. Questions he asks himself so much they become a mantra. For maybe the only person who has answers is thousands miles away and completely untouchable. 

 

Once school starts it's a mess. Peter doesn't remember how to wake up early so he ends up not sleeping at all at start. The whole deal of going to school again is horrible because he has no free time and the only thing that made him feel good is suddenly unavailable for him. He can't accept it and maybe he just cares too little. There are days when he doesn't even bother going to school. He hides his backpack just like he always would and comes back in the evening. It works at first. For a few times. Then he crosses the absence limit, someone from school calls May and everything is damned. He gets detention for two weeks and silent treatmeant from May for about the same time. 

 

Ned and Michelle are there with him through it. They are there when he sleeps through half of his classes because that's the only calm place where he manages to fall asleep. They are there with him when he looks like he's homeless (it happens once and he doesn't make it in time to come back home and change after a night out so he wears the suit under his clothes through the whole day). Ned's there even when Peter eats his first meal in days and ends up throwing it all up. They don't talk about that.

 

Michelle manages to leave Peter breathless way too much from his point of view. Once, for example, that one time when she almost causes him a panic attack is in a library. They are writing down notes for their history project when she looks up and nudges him with a pen. He takes out one of his earphones ready to answer any history-related question. She doesn't ask for such a thing. She points her finger towards one of the senior boys with almost audible whisper "you two would look hot together."  
He chokes on his saliva because what?! He has to look very, very shocked because she stiffles her laugh against the sleeve of her hoodie. "I mean, he may not be your type, right but I feel like you like tall guys..."  
"What? I don't even... What?" he stutters too much to get out of this unharmed. But Ned comes right after that and he doesn't dare to meet Michelle's eyes after that.

 

Tony doesn't call him for months. In fact he doesn't talk to him at all. Peter thinks it's okay. He occasionally cries himself to sleep because that's an obvious time for overthinking and he sincerely hates himself for that. But what he loathes even more is the act of falling asleep itself. Falling asleep more like wallowing in his self pity and heart ache, thank you very much. 

Other than that he thinks he is okay. Being away from Tony is a curse and it's also a gift because it's the closest he has been to freedom in the past year. He spends majority of his time in school or out in the city, being the friendly neighborhood Spiderman Tony always wanted him to be. It's pathetic how much he holds onto the things connected with Tony. Or so it goes at the beginning.

Sometimes mid-Fall Peter kind of loses it. Out of anger or desperation, as a call for attention, he can't even tell himself anymore. Avoiding danger becomes taking risks. Careful becomes reckless and he just so doesn't give a single shit about his well-being anymore, it actually works amazing. 

 

His grades are slipping, he couldn't care less. In fact, it is in a way a big 'fuck you' to Tony's face and his whole idea about Peter going to MIT. 

 

Not everything is that bad. Ned still manages to make him laugh. It's like he knows that something is up with Peter. He doesn't ask. He doesn't question any of his actions. He just makes him laugh when he sees that Peter might as well just lose his sanity. Peter doesn't say thank you, but he gives him the most genuine look he manages, and it's sincere, it really is. Ned is the closest person he lets in after all. 

 

It's simple. Tony seems to be interested in anything and anyone but Peter. Maybe because he actually gets anything and anyone but Peter.

 

"Do you love him?" Michelle asks one day, out of nowhere. Peter is literally holding a tube of hydrochloric acid and does his best trying not to spill it all over himself when he hears the question. What the fuck?! How would she even know?!  
"What?" He doesn't look at her, he simply can't for she would know.  
There is about a minute of silence. The longest fucking minute in Peter's life, that's what he knows for sure.  
"I read that you probably really love the one that comes into your mind first when you hear that question, you're welcome."  
She finishes the experiment first and he isn't sure whether she just wanted to distract him or if she just enjoys messing with his already messed up mind. 

 

It's simple. Peter doesn't need him. He may love Tony just a little too much but he doesn't need him. In fact, he's probably better off without him. 

 

His hair has gotten longer by now. It's more curly. And too bad he cares too little to put hair gel or hair spray or basically anything that requires more effort than his shampoo. Not like it matters for he spends half of the time hidden in the suit and the other half under a hood of his favourite worn out black hoodie. 

 

It's simple. Tony doesn't contact him, Peter doesn't either. They utterly vanish from each other's lives and if Peter didn't remember the bittersweet taste of Tony's mouth he would question whether they ever even as much as met in the first place. 

 

The day he finds out about Tony and Pepper's engagement would be rather decent, if we forget about the news that shattered his heart. Not like he didn't expect it. He did, really. In fact he was waiting for it to finally happen for maybe it would offer him some kind of relief, freedom, fresh start. It doesn't though. It hurts. And even though he thinks Tony introduced him to all kinds of pain, he is wrong. This is a new kind, it's different than the feeling which accompanies everything connected to Tony. This feels hopeless and desperate and in a way just- numb. Just like Peter really is. It's pathetic but he doesn't really know what to do about it. 

 

He doesn't receive a call. He doesn't receive a message. He finds out on TV, May is watching once he gets home from school.  
He feels so uneasy, anxious. He feels like throwing up. Yeah, jokes on you, too bad there is no such an option for he barely remembers the last time he ate.

"They look so happy, oh my god. Did you know, Peter?" May asks with a smile on her lips.

"No..." he stutters out. "Mr. Stark doesn't share details about his personal life with me," he replies, his voice lacking any kind of emotion. Not like it matters because all he can hear is blood pulsing in his ears.

That's when May looks up and the excitement vanishes from her face. "You're so pale... Are you feeling alright?" she stands up, coming closer.

"Yeah, I'm okay.. I guess something is in the air today. One girl at school passed out in the middle of the hallway," he lies so shamelessly that even he himself would believe his words if he didn't know the truth. It's awful how much better he got at this. And maybe he just really wants to be the unconcious girl he just made up.

"You need to drink more water, okay?" she pushes a strand of his hair out of his vision, to the side, with so much love but he never meets her eyes. Because if he did, maybe she would know how far from okay he really is. 

 

He goes out that night. Hoping that would make him feel at least a tad bit better. He sneaks out just like he usually would. 

 

There is a bank robbery. About a dozen of hostages. He does what he has to do. And he's so, so close. He gets almost all of the people out. The last three people and the robbers accompany Peter when it happens. 

Everything is a mess. Something heavy is pushing him down agaisnt the ground. His view is dizzy. The only thing he can hear is his blood pulsing in his ears. An explosion bigger than anything Peter has ever seen before, that's what caused this chaos. 

Peter tries to stand up. He fails at the first try. His left side hurts so bad, it makes his vision go white. He struggles back to the ground. He doesn't even take in Karen's questions. It takes him long minutes to get to his feet. He searches for seven people. Three victims and four robbers that were previously tied together by the web. He does find them eventually. Panic spreads through his chest once he pulls out the last girl. She couldn't be older than ten and it's painful to look at her because there's a thick coat of blood and dust all over her small figure. He can't even tell whether she's breathing or not.

Police officers surround the area, ambulance is waiting in front of the building (or what is left of it atleast). Peter doesn't even want to be seen, he disappears as fast as he appeared in the first place. 

 

He walks and walks and walks. He doesn't dare to move any other way because the shoots of pain he gets in return are for sure not worth it. He collapses on the ground, falling surprisingly fast to his knees. His entire body feels too heavy. He just wants to take a rest. He takes off the mask. There has to be blood running down his face because when he touches it the slightest bit his fingers are stained red. He can feel how it makes his hair stick together. He hates it. It's wet and warm and he is already uncomfortable enough even without that. 

It takes less than a minute and he shuts his eyes because he feels so so sleepy. Just for a minute he tells himself. He doesn't get up after that. It's okay because there are hands of someone, who apparently always looks after him, to catch him instead. 

 

The first thing he sees when he wakes up is blinding, blinding light. His eyes burn even after he shuts them in a try to get away from the brightness. He rubs them with his fingers but that doesn't feel any better. 

He rolls over onto his stomach and it almost helps but then he struggles to lift himself up and he falls off the leather surface he was previously laying on, the pain making him pull his knees to his chest. 

His throat doesn't feel quite right either. It's so sore and hoarse and he doesn't even see it coming when he starts choking on his own blood. Copper taste all over his mouth and he's sure it's down his chin, too when he spits it out... on the white carpet. Where the fuck is he? It's no longer a question because he remembers throwing up on this exact white carpet in the past. The realization hits him like a piercing cut in his chest. 

His head feels dizzy. There isn't a possibility he could be in here. He isn't in any shape to face who he is about to face. No, no, no. He manages to get onto his knees. That's a good start, really. He needs to find the door and then run away as fast as possible. To run until he can't feel his legs, until his lungs burn so much it's gonna be the only thing he can feel. The only thing bothering his mind. That's his plan, yes.

But then he hears footsteps and everything is damned. And so is he. When he isn't, really?!

The man in front of him looks so familiar, yet they feel like strangers. He looks so close, but that's an illusion. They're two different people after those long months of being apart, moving on with their lives (or Tony moving on with his own, at least. Peter's way of dealing with things may be called many names, but hardly moving on). Or so Peter tells himself. Tony's hair looks a bit longer than he remembers, his brown eyes look darker and Peter hates himself for forgetting the exact shade. The ache in his chest spreads. He needs to go. 

But Tony is so close, all over his senses.  
Peter prefers the blindness, thank you very much, for it aches a little less.

"I sometimes get this feeling you just go around doing stuid things on purpose when I'm gone," his voice is exactly the same. So is the 'I told you so' expression on his face. Peter hates it because that feels too familiar and he starts to remember how this all started in the first place. How every minute with Tony, while Tony being untouchable for him feels like a tiny papercut. 

But with coming back to himself he also remembers the earlier events of the day. Events which equal the reason why Tony is so untouchable. He snaps out of it, looking away. Once, a long time ago, he realized that looking at Tony is like looking at the sun. If you're looking for too long it gets painful. That hasn't changed either.  
He refuses to reply. He doesn't have anything to say to him. Or maybe he has too many things he wishes he could say, but he doesn't have any right nor strength to do so. He remains silent. And maybe, even if he could tell him, he wouldn't trust himself with his voice.

Tony looks more concerned though. There are dark circles under his eyes, as if he hasn't been sleeping that well either lately. Who has, really? He comes closer, setting few tiny bottles on the table. That and a pack of ice. Peter doesn't want it. Peter didn't ask for any of this. He wishes Tony left him unconscious on the road. 

They eventually get too close. His nose is filled with Tony's scent and that brings him back in time because he still uses the same cologne. It smells like summer to Peter. Like summer, tears, the worst heartache of his life and a little bit of happiness. But that's probably how it's supposted to be. 

Tony eventually wraps his fingers around Peter's bicep on his unwounded side to help him get up, but it's too much and he doesn't believe himself around Tony so he snaps instead. Shuts Tony out, gets himself as far as possible so he himself is the only one who gets hurt in the end. 

"Don't fucking touch me!" 

Peter thinks he sees a hurt expression on his face. It's too fast and it may be just his aching mind playing tricks on him. And in a way he really wants it to be real but even if it was real it wouldn't mean anything, would it?

"I should have seen this coming, okay," he mutters to himself, "Peter... Listen-" Tony reaches his hand to wipe away the blood from his temple but Peter is having none of that. Then the anger strikes and it's oh so unfortunate, really. He almost feels sorry for being the way he is but Tony's action speak loud enough for him and he doesn't have any right to test Peter like this. He pushes him away with all the force he can find in himself. It isn't much, his shoulder is too sore. 

"No you listen. I don't fucking care!" he is screaming so loud, it's echoing through the house. He just really doesn't give a damn. 

"Sure, great idea. Wonderful really. Let the hate you feel towards me get you walk home with the broken ribs and the coat of blood all over your body." 

"Fuck you," he slowly gets up, leaning against the wall. He limps his way out of the building and he doesn't turn around once. His entire body hurts so much but it's nothing compared to the ache in his heart. It's a numb feeling. It feels as if Tony Stark made him start slowly dying from the inside out.

**Author's Note:**

> :)))


End file.
